So, Sunday night I posted that I felt like I was going to be sick. My throat had that scratchy feeling that made a taunting sing songy bully voice in my head sing over and over, “You’re going to be siiiiiiick!”

And it was correct. Oh boy was it correct.

Monday morning.. I don’t remember the morning. I vaguely remembering saying something about not going to work to James. That’s it. I don’t remember James showering or getting dressed, or the kids running around or anything. I do remember the weird vivid fever dreams I had. I woke up to stillness all around me and that weird feeling you get when you wake up not knowing what time it is or what’s going on. I went back to sleep. Around 10am I dragged myself out of bed, left a message on my boss’ voicemail that I wouldn’t be in that day, did a shot of Dayquil, and got myself into a steaming hot bath hoping that would stop the fever-shivering. It did, but when I managed to drag my carcass out of it an hour later, the shivering came back. I stayed in bed all day, not really sleeping, more like drifting along on a cloud of feverish unconsciousness. I don’t like it there. I dreamed about my raspberry bushes taking over the entire yard. I dreamed about digging huge trenches around them, and putting in cement gardening blocks to try to contain their growth. I dreamed about other things too, but they’ve now faded from memory. Luckily, no nightmares. Fever nightmares are the worst. I vaguely grew aware of the time and the parched state of my throat, and so I made a white-knuckles on the bannister trip down the stairs to get a glass of water, and then back in bed I called James and asked if he could pick up the kids. He did, but warned me that I’d have to actually supervise them, and make sure they get dinner and jammies and get put into bed, because he had class that night. I had remembered, but wasn’t relishing the idea.

When they got home, Ethan and Jocelyn were so cute. They came over and asked me if I was feeling sick, and why and assured me that they’d take care of me. Ethan is especially cute when someone is sick. He gets the victim his warmest blankey, and even offers them his treasured Pookie bear. I let them watch TV all night, eat PBJs on the couch, got them both dressed in their jammies in the living room, and then packed them to bed one by one with (very short) stories. The really sucky part about being in bed all day with a fever is that late at night when the fever has finally broken and you’re exhausted and yet not really sleepy and the thought of going back to bed where you spent all day is depressing.

Tuesday was a little better. The fever abated with the help of the Dayquil, so that I actually ate food and ginger ale, but stayed pretty solidly on the couch for the duration of the day. I took the opportunity to catch up on Gilmore Girls. I watched a few of them last fall, but then got discouraged with the turn of events in Loralei’s love life and stopped watching them as the TiVo recorded them. I just let them build up, so now I’ve got about 10 episodes to watch. I like doing it that way better, because then I can watch a whole bunch in a row and get to where everything is better again (and I know they will be. I KNOW THEY WILL BE.)

I even managed to get up and make some dinner for everyone. I knew that today I’d be going in to work, but was still feeling pretty crummy.

And I must say, for being sick, it could have been much worse.. I could breath through my nose OK. My throat felt a little scratchy, but not like I was swallowing razor blades or anything. My symptoms all zeroed in on my nasal passages not actually part of my nose or throat. Right under my eyes and behind my nose, I felt like somehow, a deflated basketball had snuck in there and then inflated. I felt as if my brain was trying to ooze out my ears. My neck hurt like a mofo everytime I tried to turn my head. My head itself felt like it weighed 50 pounds and was impossible to hold up or move. My ears popped and crackled everything I even thought about swallowing or moving my jaw.

Tuesday night, I was feeling better (read: no fever), but as all the congestion in my sinus cavities started to finally loosen, I would cough up, what I described to James as, “bloody pieces of my brain.” It looked that way, and it felt that way, and since more dark green bloody spew the size of my top ring finger knuckle got spat out into the sink and shower this morning, I decided that even if I was feeling a bit better, I should probably seek professional assistance. I mean, if it IS my brain, I certainly don’t want to lose any MORE of it into the sink. I know though, that it’s not my brain, it’s nasty infected horribly compacted mucus that has set up it’s home in my sinuses (sinusi? sini?). However, it’s much more fun to point at the sink and exclaim, “MY BRAIN! THAT WAS THE PART THAT CONTROLLED MY ESP!”

Ahem. Sorry about that. I hope you weren’t eating or anything.

I got myself to a doctor this morning. I now have antibiotics, nasal spray, narcotic laced cough syrup for nighttime, and the label “sinus infection” to use on friends and colleagues in order to derive pity for my sad sorry state.

I just hope I stop horking up pieces of my brain.

In other not so good news, I’ve now used up all my sick time for the year and have started on vacation time. Yippee!